Gascoigne, George / Kinwelmershe, Francis / Yelverton, ChristopherEuripides / Dolce, Lodovico · published 1575 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 481 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
THe feeble thread which Lachesis hath spun, To draw my days in short abode with thee, Hath wrought a web which now (well-near) is done, The wale is worn: and (all to late) I see That lingering life doth dally but in vain, For Atropos will cut the twist in twain. I not discern what life but loathsome were, When faithful friends are kept in twain by want: Nor yet perceive what pleasure doth appear, To deep desires where good success is scant. Such spite yet shows dame fortune (if she frown,) The haughty hearts in high mishaps to drown. Hot be the flames which boil in friendly minds, Cruel the care and dreadful is the doom: Slipper the knot which tract of time untwynds, Hateful the life and welcome were the tomb. Blest were the day which might devour such youth, And cursed the want that seeks to choke such truth. This wailing verse I bathe in flowing tears, And would my life might end with these my lines: Year strive I not to force into thine ears, Such feigned plaints as fickle faith resigns. But high foresight in dreams hath stopped my breath, And caused the Swan to sing before his death. For lo these naked walls do well declare, My latest leave of thee I taken have: And unknown coasts which I must seek with care Do well divine that there shallbe my grave: There shall my death make many for to moon, Scarce known to them, well known to thee alone. This boon of thee (as last request) I crave, When true report shall sound my death with fame: Vouchsafe yet then to go unto my grave, And there first writ my birth and then my name: And how my life was shortened many years, By women's wiles as to the world appears. And in reward of grant to this request, Permit O God my tongue these words to tell: (When as his pen shall writ upon my chest) With shrieking voice mine own dear friend farewell: Not care on earth did seem so much to me, As when my corpse was forced to part from thee. A hundredth sons (in course but not in kind) Can witness well that I possess no joy: The fear of death which fretteth in my mind Consumes my heart with dread of dark annoy. And for each son a thousand broken sleeps Divide my dreams with fresh recourse of cares: The youngest sister sharp her sheare she keeps, To cut my thread, and thus my life it wears. Yet let such days, such thousand restless nights, Spit forth their spite, let fates eke show their force: Deaths daunting dart where so his buffet lights, Shall shape no change within my friendly corpse: But dead or live, in heaven, in earth, in hell I willbe thine where so my carcase devil.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
THe féeble thred which Lacheſis hath ſponne, To drawe my dayes in ſhort abode with thée, Hath wrought a webbe which now (welneare) is donne, The wale is worne: and (all to late) I ſée That lingring life doth dally but in vaine, For Atropos will cut the twiſt in twaine. I not diſcerne what life but lothſome were, When faithfull friends are kept in twayne by want: Nor yet perceiue what pleaſure doth appéere, To déepe deſires where good ſucceſſe is ſkant. Such ſpight yet ſhowes dame fortune (if ſhe frowne,) The haughty harts in high miſhaps to drowne. Hot be the flames which boyle in friendly mindes, Cruell the care and dreadfull is the doome: Slipper the knot which tract of time vntwynds, Hatefull the life and welcome were the toome. Bleſt were the day which might deuoure ſuch youth, And curſt the want that ſéekes to choke ſuch trueth. This wayling verſe I bathe in flowing teares, And would my life might end with theſe my lines: Yer ſtriue I not to force into thine eares, Such fayned plaints as fickell faith reſignes. But high forſight in dreames hath ſtopt my breath, And cauſde the Swanne to ſing before his death. For lo theſe naked walles do well declare, My lateſt leaue of thée I taken haue: And vnknowen coaſtes which I muſt ſéeke with care Do well diuine that there ſhalbe my graue: There ſhall my death make many for to mone, Skarce knowne to them, well knowne to thee alone. This bowne of thée (as laſt requeſt) I craue, When true report ſhall ſounde my death with fame: Vouchſafe yet then to go vnto my graue, And there firſt write my byrth and then my name: And how my life was ſhortned many yeares, By womens wyles as to the world appeares. And in reward of graunt to this requeſt, Permit O God my toung theſe woordes to tell: (When as his pen ſhall write vpon my cheſt) With ſhriking voyce mine owne deare friend farewell: No care on earth did ſéeme ſo much to me, As when my corps was forſt to part from thée. A Hundreth ſonnes (in courſe but not in kind) Can witneſſe well that I poſſeſſe no ioye: The feare of death which fretteth in my mind Conſumes my hart with dread of darke anoye. And for eche ſonne a thouſand broken ſléepes Deuide my dreames with freſh recourſe of cares: The youngeſt ſiſter ſharpe hir ſheare ſhe kéepes, To cut my thred, and thus my life it weares. Yet let ſuch daies, ſuch thouſand reſtleſſe nights, Spit forth their ſpite, let fates eke ſhowe their force: Deathes daunting dart where ſo his buffet lights, Shall ſhape no change within my friendly corſe: But dead or liue, in heauen, in earth, in hell I wilbe thine where ſo my carkaſe dwell.